


Warm Heart

by Stingythefish



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: ADHD Ibuki Mioda, F/F, Fluff, also she likes music ofc, basically ibuki sees a cute girl and is gay for her, i don't know how to tag, idk if i'll continue this but it was fun to write this much, mikan is a mess as always I'm sorry girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stingythefish/pseuds/Stingythefish
Summary: Ibuki meets a cute girl twice in one day. She just wishes that the second time hadn't happened in a hospital.
Relationships: Mioda Ibuki/Tsumiki Mikan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Warm Heart

My first concert ever started with a cute girl and ended with a broken leg.

My name’s Ibuki Mioda, and ever since I was young I’ve been fascinated by music. The way melodies combine with harmonies, the way rhythms can go all over the place, yet still have a sense of unity. I’ve tried all sorts of instruments, and people tell me I’m really good at them from the moment I pick them up, but my favourite has always been the electric guitar. There’s something about it, sitting in my hands, my fingers on the frets, the strings warbling, my right hand strumming gently, or  _ real hard _ depending on the song. I love the guitar, and I decided I wanted to become a star with it. I wanted to share my music with the world, and I mean the  _ whole _ world.

I’m pretty good, but being good doesn’t mean everyone can hear you. You’ve got to shout  _ really loud _ \--and by that I mean, you’ve got to make some noise. It’d be nice to start out on the biggest stage in the world, performing for millions, but I’ll settle for a small restaurant in the city performing for five.

It’s cold, colder than usual. The first ghostly traces of autumn sneaking up on us. I stand before the venue--it’s really just a restaurant, but calling it a venue makes it sound way cooler--with my guitar in its case over my shoulder. Passerby stare as they walk by; my style is really wild and not afraid to let itself be known, which means I get a lot of looks. I don’t mind. Why hide yourself just because people look at you funny?

Anyway. I stand before the venue, staring up at it, all dramatic-like. Characters in dramas and movies stare up at big, meaningful locations, right? Well, this venue marks my first foray into my stardom, the first step on my journey to sharing my music with the world. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be thinking about, but I sure do feel dramatic.

“Um….miss?”

I frown, and glance to the side. A cute girl, with purple hair and a bandaid on her cheek, looked as though she was about to burst into tears. “I-I’m s-sorry! Um, b-but, uh, are y-you, standing there for a r-reason?”

I crack a smile. “Just making sure I feel dramatic enough. It’d suck big time if my first step wasn’t all meaningful and powerful and stuff.”

The girl seems confused, though no less terrified. “U-Um, w-well, um, it’s j-just, if you stand there too long in c-clothes like that, you’ll g-g-get...frostb-bite…”

I glance down at my attire. For once, someone isn’t criticizing it based on what it looks like, but rather its ability to keep me warm. I guess it is a bit inappropriate for this time of year… “Don’t worry about it! Ibuki’s got a warm, beating heart to keep herself heated. She doesn’t feel cold at all!”

The purple-haired girl kinda stands there, unsure of how to react, before bowing low. “I-I’m so sorry….I’ll leave you alone f-forever n-now…”

And with that, she scampers off. Not sure why she was so scared, but it’s whatever. I turn my attention back to the venue, take a deep breath, and head inside.

It’s a small place, sorta crammed in between two other buildings, with a bar on one side and a stage on the other. I can barely believe they managed to fit the stage in; with it, there’s no room to put any tables or chairs anywhere other than the ends of the restaurant. Still, I do have an audience for my first show--there are three guys sitting at the bar. Excellent.

The owner, an old dude with a moustache, approaches. “You must be Ibuki Mioda!” He exclaims, bowing.

I bow back. “That’s me! Ready and reporting for duty!”

He smiles, gesturing for me to follow him. I do, and we head into a back room. It’s even tinier than the venue itself, and leads to a tiny staircase that seems to loop back around to the stage. When the owner speaks again, his voice is hushed. “So. The audio and everything was tested earlier; all you’ve got to do is go up there, plug your guitar in, and put on a show. Sound good?”

I nod my head vigorously. “You got it, boss!” Not waiting another second, I rush up the stairs and set my case down backstage, pulling the guitar out of it. It’s a blazing bright purple, sparkly and decorated with pink lightning patterns. In other words, it’s the perfect-est guitar ever. I grin, and scoop it up in my hands, throwing the strap over my shoulder. Then, with confident steps, I head out onstage. Only one of the three guys at the bar seems to notice me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m performing. It’s my first concert ever. No matter if I’m playing for one person or one million, I’m gonna go out there and shine. 

I grin, grab the microphone--

\--and misstep. My foot slides off the stage, and, unable to recover, I go tumbling off. It isn’t all that high up, but I’m falling at a bad angle, and then--

A crack. Loud, and painful. When I open my eyes again, I’m on the ground, and my leg is bent in a way it’s not supposed to be.

Needless to say, my first concert ever didn’t exactly go as planned.

Hospital lights are bright. A strange sort of brightness. Flickering, but only occasionally. The type that’ll burn themselves into your eyes if you stare too long. Real good at lighting up a room, though. I feel like there’s a song title in there somewhere…

I glance down at myself. I’m lying in a hospital bed, my leg in a cast. They just set it like that ten minutes ago. My parents are talking to the doctor, I think. I’m not sure. Everything after I got on stage at that venue has kind of been a blur. My eyes keep focusing on things in the room, my thoughts constantly dancing away from me. It’s hard to focus. Then again, it’s always hard to focus for me.

Movement. Footsteps. The doctor enters the room, my parents behind him. He looks very professional, with that coat and that clipboard and those glasses. I bet he’s real smart. “Ibuki. You doing alright?”

I smile, though honestly I’m feeling pretty exhausted. “You bet, doc.”

He nods. “We’ve got to let the cast set, so you’ll have to stay here for another hour or so before we can let you leave. Okay?”

I give a nod. “Alright.”

The doc then turns to my parents. “You can stay with her if you want, or stay in the waiting room. We’ll let you know exactly when she can go home.”

My parents exchange a look, before nodding. “I’ve got to go call gran,” my father mutters.

“Ibuki, you don’t mind if we leave you for now, do you?” My mother asks, her face plainly worried. My parents both care for me, but they’re busy people, and rarely have time for me, even when I’m injured, it seems.

I don’t let it get me down. I give her a wide smile. “Go right ahead.”

With that, all three adults leave the room. I’m left alone. Part of my brain is abuzz, a train of thought off its tracks, left to wander aimlessly, while another part is tired, slowed to a crawl, every concentrated effort like chugging through neck-high snow. Either way, I’m left paralysed again, staring absently at the wall. The events leading up to the fall that broke my leg start to replay in my mind, in slow motion. The stage lights, the one guy at the bar who’d turned around to watch, the microphone in my hand…

More movement. My eyes drift over to the door, and I think it’s the doctor again, but no, it’s a woman, a woman in a nurse’s uniform, a woman with purple hair….

I sit up, my exhaustion suddenly disappearing. It’s that girl from before, the one who warned me about frostbite, the one who seemed scared to death. Her expression still seems timid and shy as she enters the room, but there’s a certain level of control to it as well, and a contentedness, as though she’s in her element. She barely seems to notice me, or maybe is doing her best not to look at me, as she sets a few papers on the desk and writes on them. Then, turning around, she puts on a smile, and begins a line that sounds premeditated.

“Hello there, my name is Mikan Tsumiki, and I’m your nurse. I’m just going to be asking--wha!”

She stops short as she seems to at last recognize me.

My smile is wide and dumbfounded. “So your name is Mikan! It’s nice to meet you, again! I’m Ibuki Mioda!”

“I-I know,” the girl manages after a few seconds of stunned silence. “It’s on your documents. U-Um, why are you h-here?”

I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Heh, funny story...Ibuki was stupid, stepped where she shouldn’t have. I fell off the stage, broke my leg. Guess that wasn’t the greatest start to my rocker career, huh?”

Mikan still seems unsure of how to react, but at last forces herself to move, turning back around and fumbling with her papers. I’m not sure if she’s actually doing anything with them, or just faking a task so she doesn’t have to keep talking with me. Eventually, though, she faces me again, her eyes on the floor. “I-I’m s-s-sorry.”

I cock my head. “What for?”

“F-For telling y-you off! That was...uncalled f-for. It wasn’t even that cold out. You shouldn’t have had to d-deal with a stranger lecturing you.”

I shake my head. “What? You don’t have to be sorry for that! You were looking out for Ibuki’s health, right? I’m glad you said something! To be truthful, that talk about my warm beating heart was sort of bravado. I mean, I do have a strong heart, but I should really wear more layers next time.”

Mikan doesn’t seem to be especially reassured, and she fiddles with her hands and does her best not to look at me directly. “U-Um...I’m sorry about your leg. And your concert. You w-were supposed to be performing?”

I grin, nodding. “Yep! Ibuki’s a guitarist, and she plans to share her music with the whole entire world! That was my first gig ever, but looks like I bungled it up. Stupid Ibuki, not bothering to look before she leaps, as always.”

For once, a small smile forms on Mikan’s lips. “Y-You sure seem to b-bounce back easy, though. You b-broke your leg, but you d-don’t even seem to feel all that b-bad about it.”

I pause, then shrug. “I guess I don’t see any point about feeling bad about that sort of thing. Wallowing in sorrow doesn’t get you anywhere. The only way you’re going to move forward is by staying positive.”

Mikan doesn’t respond to that, her eyes returning to the ground. At last, she takes a deep breath, and pulls out a clipboard and a pen. “I-I’m sorry for t-taking up your time. I-I need to ask you a few qu-questions, about the incident, and about any health issues you might’ve had in the p-past, okay?”

My ears are only half listening as she speaks. My eyes are glued to her face, studying every detail. Her adorable button nose, plump lips, and dazzlingly vibrant eyes, a shade of sparkly purple that reminds me of my guitar. Mikan is undeniably beautiful, and as her voice continues to fill my brain, only one thought sticks out from the rest:  _ I have to get to know this girl better. _

Mikan is reading off her clipboard still. “Um, so the first question is, d-do you have any allergies?”

“Will you go out with me?”

She freezes.

I blink. “Ahaha, sorry. That probably was a bit forward.”

“You…” Mikan begins, her face both pale and red at the same time, “y-y-y-you w-want to g-g-go out….with m-me?”

I nod. “Yeah! Or just a first date, if you’d rather.”

Her blush quickly dominates her face as she shrinks behind her clipboard. “U-Um...but you’re my p-patient, I-I can’t g-go….I can’t d-date…”

“I won’t be your patient for much longer! They’re letting me out of here today.”

Mikan doesn’t seem to have any refutal. “W-Well….then….b-but, are you really okay w-with someone l-like m-m-me?”

I give a hearty nod. “Of course! I wouldn’t ask out just anyone! You’re so pretty, and you seem really kind. I want to get to know you better!”

Mikan flushes even harder. “Th-Th-Then...I’d be h-happy t-t-to...go out with you.”

I can’t help but smile. Today might not have gotten off to a great start, but it’s definitely looking up.


End file.
